Number Nine
by Tocka e
Summary: Amazingly enough, when the night is over only one child is left unaccounted for. Too bad it's the one with a demon in its stomach.


The decision to split up the possession of the nine demons was a matter much discussed within the ruling powers of Konohagakure. There were doubts, of course, that it would prove to be detrimental to the continuation of the Village Hidden in the Leaves – that it would weaken them in comparison to the other major villages – and many people thought that the Shodai would make a foolish mistake if he went through with his decision.

The First Hokage, however, was convinced that it was the only way to ensure that the status quo would be withheld, and with it, peace, and didn't back down in the slightest, his family and successor in particular always standing behind him. And when the Hokage had made his verdict final, there wasn't much anyone else could do, together or not.

So the beasts were scattered, and with them, new jinchuurikis were made, their allegiances already determined for them.

The One-Tail headed for Suna, the Second and Eight-Tails fared Kumo, Three and Six to Kiri, Four and Five shipped Iwa, the Seventh was placed in Taki and the Nine-Tailed Fox found its residence in the wife of the First Fire Shadow.

Not that many were privileged with that particular piece of information.

To make a long story short, the distribution of the Tailed powers was meant as insurance for cooperation, a means to build a world without ceaseless fighting. A sign of goodwill, from the strongest of Kages to the others, if you'd like.

As we all know, it didn't exactly turn out as the Shodai had expected.

War soon reigned again, and where jinchuurikis hadn't played a large role before, now they were invaluable. Coveted due to their powers, the force they represented on a battlefield, the unimaginable might behind them, people quickly became both in awe and in fear of them. They were not seen as mere men, but rather weapons, tools meant to be used as their leaders wished, only to be discarded for a better vessel when their use turned out to cost too much or be too much of a hassle.

It didn't take long until the sentence to become a host, whether that happened as early as birth or later on in life, became a sentence of solitude and discrimination, only a few being able to move beyond the view that the public held of them.

Of course, the villages weren't always similar in their reactions. The people in Suna feared their jinchuuriki more than all other nations, the ones in Iwa regarded theirs as tools to an unmatched height, and Taki's populace played the game of avoidance and ignorance masterfully.

The one that stood out the most, however, was Konoha.

It could be explained by the host being the wife of a Hokage, or by the fact that she as an Uzumaki, held powers none other possessed as a means to control to demon inside of her, or many other plausible reasons. But no matter the why, the end result was the same.

She was not feared.

Arguably, she would have been, had the people around her actually known of her situation. But they hadn't, so they didn't.

And Konoha, unlike its peers, saw no need to enlighten them.

They were strong even without their jinchuuriki battling at her full power, so many ninjas that were S-class and beyond within their borders that keeping their inhabitants ignorant was a solution that far outweighed in benefits than any others.

An ostracized beast was an unreliable one, after all, since it was not as likely to follow orders, but a loyal one, now, that was something completely different.

So while the other nations flaunted their powers, Konoha hid theirs. While everyone knew the names of jinchuuriki one through eight, only a handful at a time were informed of the identity of the ninth, and the civilians of Konoha, never being all that interested in ninja politics or the warfare raised beyond their borders, forgot.

The other Villages, though, never did. The existence of the Number Nine was always lurking in the shadows, no one knowing when they'd show up or whose face they'd be wearing.

A hidden ace, if there ever was one.

That is why, when on October tenth, a century since the First Hokage sent out the demons all over the nations, Konoha's elderly leader, scant hours after being reinstated, could breathe a sigh of relief.

The situation was dire, to say the least – a Hokage lost, hundreds of ninjas and thousands of civilians dead or injured and their village in heavy need of repair – he did not have an easy ride in front of him. Nor did his subjects, from the littlest of academy students to the elderly long since retired. But he was certain they'd make it through.

Status quo still held strong.

After all, no one could possibly know the Jinchuuriki of the Nine-Tails – not even a day old, nothing more than a baby – was missing, and Konoha held its trump card no longer.


End file.
